


of scars in the stratosphere (and hearts left behind)

by valkea



Category: Super Junior
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 07:19:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2016027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkea/pseuds/valkea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"i know." (it hurts all the same.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	of scars in the stratosphere (and hearts left behind)

the night flows on heechul's skin, shadows and artificial moonlight spilling from the open  
window like watercolours. there's a familiar pulse under his fingertips, beating quaver rhythms  
to melodies meant only for him to hear. heechul listens to the blood rush in waves through his  
head and it reminds him of shallow water and warm sand and seashells pressed against his  
ear. 

"永远," hankyung breathes and heechul stares wide-eyed at the shadows on the ceiling with  
his heart at a standstill. the words hang suspended in the silence between them and heechul  
feels like dragging them down, but he turns to face hankyung instead. "영원히," he laughs,  
"speak korean to me."

 

donghae's out the door with a grin, eyes filled with child-like anticipation and a hint of fear for the  
unknown. hankyung is different. one last kiss by the doorframe, a bittersweet smile pressed  
against heechul's lips.  
"it's only two months."  
"i know." (it hurts all the same.)

 

heechul watches them shine on the stages of china, all insecure and wonderful, broken  
mandarin and brilliant smiles. it takes a week for sungmin to make his first long distance call.  
it takes ten days for heechul to hear the soft stream of _imissyouimissyouimissyou_ flowing from  
hyukjae's room. it takes him one night to realize he doesn't remember how to sleep alone. 

 

the click of the door heard through shallow sleep, a missed heartbeat, fingers intertwined with his.

welcome home.

 

✄-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

the night clings to heechul's skin, sickeningly warm and suffocating. the city lights are a  
wavering halo of neon through hankyung's hair and the desperation of nine years is painfully  
apparent on his face. this time heechul doesn't fail to notice it. he grasps the cool metal of the  
balcony railing and the words in his head swim and swirl, trickle down his spine, only to die in  
his throat. there's a sudden flash of apologies and words unsaid in hankyung's eyes and  
something inside heechul snaps. the next second he's a vulnerable mess slumped on the floor  
and he hates this, hates hankyung, hates himself for being like this, for not noticing. hankyung's  
hands are soothing and cold on his face, wiping away the bitter tears he'd stored for months,  
saved only for the worst of days. the sound of hankyung's breath is shaky and soft under the  
traffic sounds. heechul sobs against his open-mouthed apologies.

 

"i'm sorry."  
"i know." (it hurts all the same.)  
his touch hesitates a second too long. the door clicks silently between them.

 

heechul watches him shine on the stages of china, watches him slowly regain the sparks of  
childhood in his smiling eyes. he never even noticed they were gone. heechul listens to him  
speak (sing) the unfamiliar language he misses all too much, listens as the words of love and  
youth and heartache slide off his tongue, easy and beautiful. heechul tells himself he doesn't  
care, that he never has, but some nights the harmony of words and heartbeats echoing in his  
head turns into cacophony and he locks his door, ignores heebum's scratching and jungsoo's  
pleads through the thin wood. (wakes up repeating the only name on his mind like a spell.)

 

"come over when you're married," heechul says, and hankyung's laughter is airy and real and there,  
until the crackling of the distance between them snaps him back into reality.

 

cold mornings, day old noodles at 3am, the disconnect tone harsh against his ear.

come home.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my LJ in 2010.


End file.
